


Contact Haze

by ethereousdelirious



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Bittersweet, Caretaking, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Influenza, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Post-Break Up, Post-Relationship, Sick Character, Sickfic, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethereousdelirious/pseuds/ethereousdelirious
Summary: Robert and Joseph still aren't sure where they stand with each other, but that's not going to stop Joseph from taking care of Robert when he needs it
Relationships: Joseph Christiansen/Robert Small, Past Roseph - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this in 2019 and posted it to my Tumblr. I just happened to stumble across it again and figured I'd put it here too :)
> 
> Content Warnings: mentions of infidelity, alcohol use with implied alcoholism (not explicitly addressed)

“Those things will kill you, you know,” said a voice to his left.

Even in the dying light, Robert had seen Joseph walk up (hard not to, in all that pastel and khaki), and was weighing the benefits of ignoring him until he went away versus blowing cigarette smoke at him and watching him sneeze.

He took a drag while he considered this, but the smoke seemed to catch in his throat. He turned away on instinct and coughed hard into his sleeve and from there his body didn't seem to want to stop. He coughed until his abdomen was sore and his eyes were watering, and then he registered Joseph's hand on his shoulder.

“Put that out, maybe?”

Robert ignored him and wiped his eyes on the hem of his shirt. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I own a boat,” Joseph said, gesturing at the cruisers and fishing vessels bobbing in the water. “What are  _ you _ doing here, aside from giving yourself an asthma attack?”

“I don't have asthma,” Robert mumbled, but he stubbed his cigarette out on the dock all the same. “Just needed to think.”

“Got a lot to think about?” Joseph asked.

“Oh, don't do that. I'm not another lost soul you can recruit into your pastel Jesus cult--” Robert just barely managed to choke out the end of his sentence before more coughs came ripping out of his chest. He ducked his chin to smother them into his collar.

Joseph's hand was still on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked. The sun was almost down now, but the dim marina lights had kicked on and even in the shadow, Robert could see how his handsome face had twisted up into a sickening, cloying expression of  _ concern _ .

“I'm fine,” he said breathlessly. “I don't--” he cleared his throat. “Uh, I came down here to be alone, so.”

A breeze ruffled the flags on the boats with a series of overlapping  _ snaps.  _ Robert shivered and fumbled for the zipper on his leather jacket.

“Are you sick?” Joseph asked and before Robert could inch away from it, Joseph's hand was on his forehead. “How long have you had that fever?”

“I don't have a fever,” Robert said drily. “I'm blushing because that baby pink polo just looks so damn good on you.”

Joseph sighed, his hand still pressed against Robert's forehead. He looked… Sad? The sun was well and truly down now, not even a hint of orange on the horizon, and it was hard for Robert to tell in the washed out green of the overhead lights.

Joseph finally pulled away from him and stood up. “Come on, you should go home.”

_ Who the hell do you think you are?  _ Robert wanted to say, but he just cleared his throat against another coughing fit and accepted the hand Joseph offered him.

Getting up was a slow process. It  _ hurt _ . At first Robert had associated the ache to whatever he'd gotten up to the night before. The memories drifted into a haze of hard liquor. He'd woken up on the floor instead of in bed, sore from his knees to his neck.

“You alright?” Joseph asked. Robert's grip went slack. The minute he'd gotten to his feet, gravity seemed to tilt slowly to one side and now the lights on the marina were shutting off in concentric circles at the edges of his vision. It was enough to make him nauseated as the spinning picked up. He fell forward into Joseph and could dimly make out the sound of speech over the buzzing in his ears.

“Easy, easy, easy,” Joseph was saying. “Easy there.” He lowered Robert to his knees. “You're really warm.”

Robert was too busy catching his breath to respond. Dimly, he was aware of his forehead pressed into Joseph's shoulder and then he was coughing down the front of that horrible pink shirt. He managed to choke out “ugh,  _ fuck”  _ between coughs, which seemed to prompt Joseph to wrap his arms around him in a loose embrace.

“You're really sick,” he said fretfully.

“I noticed,” Robert said. His knees were starting to hurt from kneeling on the dock but he was so  _ tired _ and his head ached like he had 6 hangovers at once. His pulled back from Joseph's shoulder and wrapped his arms around himself. The ocean breeze cooled the sweat on his neck, making him shudder.

“Let's not stay here.” Joseph stood up again, offered Robert his hand again. “Go slow.”

Robert didn't have much of a choice  _ but _ to go slow. Gravity seemed to want to pin him flat to the ground and his joints protested even the slightest movement. But he made it to his feet with Joseph’s help. 

“There's a flu going around,” Joseph said conversationally as they walked to the parking lot. “I’ve been missing a lot of my regulars at Sunday school.”

“Mm,” Robert managed. As they got nearer to the parking lot, he started to fumble for his keys but his hands were shaking so badly all he really managed to do was rattle his coat pocket zippers.

“What are you doing?” Joseph asked. “I'm not leaving you alone. You're coming with me.”

“To your  _ house _ ?” Robert asked, horrified. He stifled a few coughs behind his lips.

“Uh, well.” Joseph scratched awkwardly at one of his temples.

“S’what I thought.”

“At least let me drive you home.”

Robert couldn’t think of anything to say so he just let Joseph lead him to the car.

“You can lay down in the back if you want,” Joseph offered. 

Robert looked in through the window, taking in the dark shapes of misplaced soccer cleats, a children's novel, a few stray food wrappers. Uncomfortable reminders of Joseph's personal life. “I'm good.” He went around the back and dumped himself in the passenger seat, head spinning. The car smelled like Mary's perfume. Robert let his head loll, brushing up against the cold glass of the window. Through half-lidded eyes, he watched the lights of Maple Bay as they went by. Dimly, he could hear music playing, possibly even hear Joseph singing softly to himself, or talking to Robert. It didn't matter. It was just Robert and the cool glass on his face and the patternless flow of lights outside the window.

He didn't really notice when the car stopped. The flow of time seemed languid, relaxed, and he was so, so warm.

“Robert!” Joseph's voice penetrated the haze. There was a hand in his cheek now and Robert flinched away from the sudden cold. “M'okay,” he mumbled, trying to remember where he was. Gradually, he did, and then he repeated himself. “I'm okay.” He forced his shaking hands to undo his seatbelt buckle and managed not to wobble getting out of the car. Then he coughed sharply into his sleeve a few times and looked up awkwardly at Joseph, who was still standing around the far side of the car.

“Uh, well, thanks,” Robert said. “See you around.” He gave a weak salute and fumbled in his pocket for his keys, which immediately slipped from his grasp. Ducking his head down to get them triggered a dizzying, pounding pressure in his temples. He staggered forward and braced himself against the hood of Joseph's car. “Ah, fuck.”

“You're not okay,” Joseph said. Not a question. A statement of fact.

“S'fine,” Robert mumbled. He was  _ exhausted _ and not at all in the mood for this. “Go home to your wife.” Joseph flinched at this and even as sick as he was, Robert couldn't keep the ugly smirk off his face as he poured salt in the wound. “Isn't Mary going to wonder where you are? Go home to her. I'll be fine.”

He staggered to his front door and had to lean against it to catch his breath before he could even  _ think _ about maneuvering the key into the lock. It took a long while to recover, several minutes filled with gasping pants and painful coughs. 

Then there was a hand between his shoulders and Joseph's voice in his ear. “I called Mary. I told her the truth.”

“What's that?”

“That you're very sick and I'm staying here tonight to make sure you don't get yourself killed.”

“I don't need your help,” Robert spat. He shook Joseph’s hand off and promptly dropped his keys again. “ _ Fuck _ .” To his horror it came out broken and cracked, more of a dry sob than a true exclamation. He dived down to grab the keys before Joseph could react and managed to stay conscious through sheer force of will. Pushing through the dizziness, he threw himself through the front door and collapsed onto the couch without even bothering to take his shoes off. “This is it, I'm sleeping. You can go home.”

Joseph flicked the lightswitch and cringed audibly, sucking in a sharp breath through gritted teeth. “Do you have medicine?”

The sudden light sent a flash of pain through Robert's head, which he resolutely ignored. “Sleeping. Don't need your help.”

“Alright.” Joseph's footsteps thudded away, but the front door didn't open. Instead, Robert could hear him clattering around in the kitchen and then the bathroom. Thoroughly annoyed, Robert kept his eyes shut and tried to fall asleep through pure spite, but as tired as he was, he couldn't manage it. He was sweating under his jacket and his skin crawled with a tight, almost painful heat. Worse still, he had the spins something fierce. It was like being drunk and hungover at the same time and it was _awful._ The fact that he had to keep stifling his coughs in his chest so Joseph would _stop_ _worrying_ and _go away_ wasn't helping matters either.

In fact, he was almost grateful for the exasperated sigh that would have ruffled his bangs had they not been plastered to his forehead with sweat, because it meant that Joseph was near, and he probably had painkillers.

“Can you sit up?” Joseph asked.

“I'm sleeping. Go away.”

“You're shaking.”

“I'm having this awful nightmare about a home invader who keeps trying to make me open up emotionally.” Another coughing fit threatened to tear up Robert's chest, but he managed to stop it by clearing his throat.

“Will you just sit up, please,” Joseph said, sounding a touch exasperated.

Robert couldn't keep the shit-eating grin off his face. He cracked his eyes open and inched partially upright, propping himself up on the armrest. Even that small movement made his head spin. Determined not to show it, he kept grinning at Joseph until his cheeks hurt. “Sure thing, Nurse Goodbody.”

Joseph stared at him for a moment. He had a few things in his hands which he set down on the coffee table once he was done trying to be judgy. “Jacket off.”

“You'd do that for me?” 

Joseph looked at him blankly until the double meaning sank in, and then he turned red from ears to chest. “I-- That's n-not what I…”

Robert couldn't help but laugh at this, a few coughs slipping past his lips as well. He cut off the fit before it could build into something more intense and wiped his watering eyes as surreptitiously as he could. “You make it so easy.” He leaned forward and slipped his leather jacket off.

Joseph took it from him and folded it up, finding space for it on the coffee table amid the empty bottles. “Shoes too.”

“Fine, but those aren't going on the coffee table,” Robert grumbled. Leaning forward seemed like too much of a task, so he wrestled his shoes off with his toes and kicked them onto the floor. “Now what?”

“Now this.” Joseph unfolded the blanket he'd placed on the coffee table and all but swaddled Robert in it.

“...I can't move my arms.”

“Wiggle a bit.”

Robert wiggled. When his arms were out, Joseph handed him a glass of water and some painkillers. “Uh, thanks.”

“I can't believe you don't have cough medicine. Or a thermometer.”

“I don't get sick that often.” Robert shrugged. “I don't make a habit of hanging around little kids.”

“That's true,” Joseph said, looking a touch sad. “Are you okay now? Will you sleep?”

“I  _ was _ sleeping,” Robert said. “Before you came in and started fussing all over me.”

“Of course you were,” Joseph said. He flicked the lightswitch off and Robert closed his eyes and lay still for a few minutes.

It was better now, with his jacket and boots off, but the painkillers hadn't had time to kick in and he couldn't keep shoving coughs down in his chest forever. In fact-- A few coughs wrenched their way out of his chest almost involuntarily and Robert rolled over to try to muffle them in the back of the couch.

_ God _ , his chest hurt and he could barely breathe, all his joints ached and the room spun and there just wasn't enough oxygen. He was dizzy when the coughing fit finally ended, and silver spots were winking in his vision. He waited for them to fade and then swung his legs over the edge of the couch.

“What are you doing?” Joseph asked. In the dark, Robert could just see his huddled form on the floor.

“Medicating,” Robert replied hoarsely. He started to walk toward the kitchen.

Joseph followed. “I thought you didn't have any medicine.”

“I don't.” Robert yanked open one of his cabinets and studied the contents for a moment before grabbing a bottle of cheap whiskey. He unscrewed the top and took a swig, then turned around for a glass.

“Absolutely not,” Joseph said. “You're going to make yourself worse. You need water.”

“Water's not gonna help me sleep this off.”

“Well, then--” Joseph sighed. “I'll go to the store.”

“Don't bother. Go home. I don't need to be looked after.” Robert held a steely silence for a brief second before it was undermined by spastic, convulsive coughs that had his shoulders shaking. He let Joseph take the whiskey bottle from him and sank to the kitchen floor. “Throat hurts,” he said pointedly.

“Whiskey's not gonna help.”

“Might.”

“Do you have any tea or anything?”

“No.”

“Why are you being so-- Ugh.” Joseph sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Come on, let me take you to bed.”

“I thought we weren't doing that any more,” Robert said before he could stop himself. He let his eyes slide shut and could hear Joseph taking deep breaths.

When he spoke again, his tone was measured and calm. “I'm helping you up.” He hauled Robert to his feet and steered him toward the bedroom. “At least it'll be more comfortable than the couch. Maybe you'll be able to get some sleep.”

“Mm,” Robert managed. He said under the covers and closed his eyes. “This  _ is  _ better,” he said hazily.

“I'm staying. Let me know if you need anything.”

The phrase “I won't” didn't make it through Robert's lips. Neither did “thank you.”

Maybe in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening! I did not intend to write a second chapter for this, it just kinda... happened  
> This one is more feels than sickfic, but maybe you like that kind of thing haha. I don't, but. Maybe you do 😝

Robert was surely missing a spectacular sunset, all gold and pink somewhere behind his head. Instead, he stared out at the boats on the water even though he could barely see them in the darkness. The marina lights were going to come on at any second, he was sure.

He leaned his weight back on his hands and chewed the unlit cigarette in his mouth. His fever had gone away in a day and a half, but the cough lingered as though to punish him for his vices. He had learned the hard way not to light up unless he wanted to cough until he gagged.

The ocean breeze ruffled Robert's hair and carried the distant sound of traffic to his ears. His tailbone ached. He should probably leave soon, go home, drink until he couldn't think any more. What exactly had he been hoping for, anyway?

"Stupid," Robert whispered to himself, the ghost of Joseph's touch fading from his mind.

Then, over the lapping of the water and the creaking of the dock, he heard coughing. Like something out of a play, the lights kicked on and brought the hunched form of Joseph Christiansen into sudden relief. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his face buried in his elbow.

Robert stood, tucking the half-disintegrated cigarette into his pocket. He could deal with it later. He stared at Joseph, who was still caught up coughing his guts out, and tried not to panic.

Whatever notions he had had about seeing Joseph again fled in a whirlwind of dread. He had to get out before Joseph saw him, but there was only one path back to land and Joseph was standing right in the middle of it.

Robert bit his lip and shot a glance down at the water. Should he jump? Maybe he could swim for it--

"Robert?" Joseph sounded like someone had punched him in the throat. Repeatedly.

"Ah, shit," Robert said. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his fingers closing around a half-finished carving of a bear. He closed the distance between them. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Fancy that," Joseph rasped. He cleared his throat. "Well--"

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Robert asked, giving Joseph an exaggerated once over. He was listing almost comically under the weight of his duffel bag and the sickly green of the marina lights made him look more corpse than man. Even to Robert's untrained eye, he looked alarmingly ill.

"That's the plan," Joseph said, jerking his head toward what was presumably his boat. Hell if Robert knew. He'd seen it once, ever.

"Did--" Guilt, slick and oily, coated Robert's stomach. "Did M-- Did you get kicked out?"

Joseph hid his eyes behind his hand, rubbed at his temples. "We reached an agreement." He paused, muffled a cough behind his lips. "I didn't want to get the kids sick."

Robert looked at him. He would just see Joseph to bed, that was all. Then he would go home. "I gave you my cold."

The color on Joseph's cheeks spread. "I'm the one who insisted on staying with you."

"Let me take your bag."

"I-- I can manage."

"Oh, I insist." Robert took the duffel bag by the strap and lifted it over Joseph's head. "Lead the way, Captain."

The interior of the yacht was unfamiliar. Robert stared at the polished hardwood trying to remember, but all he found was the taste of scotch in the back of his throat. He didn't even remember the boat's  _ name _ . Probably something unbearably on the nose, like  _ The Lucky Lady _ .

"Well," said Joseph. He had steadied himself against the wall and looked like he wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch.

Robert should let him. Robert should drop the duffel bag in some hard-to-reach spot, turn tail, and flee. "I can't leave you like this."

Joseph sniffled. "I don't know if that's--"

"Oh, so, what?" Robert's cheeks went hot as an unexpected burst of temper colored his voice. "Your holy ass can watch after me all night, but I'm not allowed to return the favor? Don't worry, I can keep my hands to myself. Sit down." Roughly, Robert dropped the duffel bag and glared at Joseph until he sat. 

"I'm s--" Joseph cut himself off with a coughing fit.

"Don't apologize." Robert shoved his hand in his pocket and clenched his fist around the half-finished wooden figure. He was making a colossal mistake, but he couldn't seem to make himself leave. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he wanted Joseph. He wanted to be near him. He wanted anything but those cloying, pitying looks, those holier-than-thou smirks.

"I really just want to sleep," Joseph said. "There's bedding in that cabinet." He pointed at it. "I can--"

"Yeah, yeah." Robert crossed the room in a single stride and took down the sheets and duvet cover, both of which were brightly-colored and patterned with palm trees. "You got any medicine?"

"In my bag."

"Anything fun?" Robert indicated that Joseph should get up. "How's this work, anyway?"

"It's a sleeper sofa." Joseph sniffled again and braced himself against the wall with a defeated sigh.

"You can complain, you know," Robert said, fumbling with the couch cushions. "I promise I won't think less of you."

"How  _ could _ you think less of me?" Joseph asked rhetorically. "The youth minister who cheated on his wife. With a  _ man.  _ A real pillar of virtue."

"Hey, there's a thin line between Saturday and Sunday morning," Robert said, trying to lighten things back up. He was  _ not  _ in the mood to pat Joseph's back while he worked out his religious angst under the influence of cold medicine.

"Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa," Joseph said, and he smiled, and Robert's heart soared.

"Anyway." He finished putting the bedding together and stepped back. "Does this thing have a liquor cabinet?"

Joseph, to his credit, just pointed at it. Then he sat down on the bed. "Are you staying, then?"

"You  _ can _ tell me to fuck off, you know." Robert produced a bottle of wine and two stemless glasses and sat in the chair opposite the bed.

"Yeah." Joseph stared blankly at him, clearly out of it. Robert poured him a glass of wine and handed it to him just to see what he would do. Joseph accepted it without question and brought it to his lips before shaking himself and lowering it again. "I don't…" He ran a hand through his hair.

"It'll help you sleep."

"So would NyQuil."

"So have both."

"That--" Joseph turned his head to the side and coughed explosively into his arm. Robert took the glass from him before it could spill and drank its contents in one swallow. Fuck this.  _ Really _ , fuck this. "Alright," he said when Joseph surfaced. "Let's get you in bed. You got pajamas?"

"Duffel bag."

"So get changed."

Joseph shifted. It was hard to tell in the low light, especially under the fever, but Robert thought he might have been blushing.

Robert shook his head. "Oh, come on. I'll strip, too, if it'll make you feel better." He shook out of his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head before Joseph could say a word. "Better?"

There was no mistaking it now, Joseph's whole face down to the neck was vivid red. "You don't have to do this."

"Do what?" Seeing that Joseph wasn't going to get up, Robert scooted the bag over with his foot and started to rifle through it.

"Tease me." 

Robert poured himself another glass of wine and chugged it. Could he do anything right? "I'm not trying-- I want--" He sighed and tightened his grip on the neck of the wine bottle. "Look, Mary is okay with me. Why can't you be?"

"I don't think that's how this ends." Joseph buried his face in his hands and made a small, pained noise. Robert was afraid he was crying until he looked up again. His eyes were dry, but they were bloodshot and rimmed in shadow. "Now's not the time."

"Then let's be friends." Robert's mouth was dry and tasted, not unpleasantly, of red zinfandel. He pulled his shirt back on as a show of goodwill. "Just for tonight. Because I'm not leaving you here. Whatever mental gymnastics you need to do to be okay with that, do them." He tossed Joseph's flamingo-print boxers at him. "Okay?"

Whatever Joseph was going to say was buried under another enormous coughing fit that nearly rattled the walls. Robert passed him a pack of travel tissues (also flamingo-print, also from the depths of Joseph's duffel bag). "Thank you, Robert."

Robert waved a hand. "You did it for me. You don't have the monopoly on being a good person, you know." Shit, was that mean? That felt mean.

Joseph blew his nose. "Can I  _ please _ go to bed now?"

"Pajamas."

"There should be a T-shirt in there somewhere."

"Nope," said Robert with faux-innocence.

" _ Robert _ ."

"Okay, okay." Robert handed him the T-shirt. "Now go get changed so you can go to bed. I don't know what's taking you so long."

"Very funny," Joseph said drily. He got up and swayed dangerously with the rocking of the boat, just barely catching himself on the wall. "Maybe not." He sat down hard and swept a hand through his hair.

"Alright, then. Get your shoes off and I'll dig up the medicine." Robert resumed pawing through the bag. He pulled out a copy of  _ Sail _ magazine and tossed it aside. "How do you fit so much crap in here?"

"Are you asking me for packing advice?" Joseph teased. He buried himself under the covers and pulled them over his head. "The trick is  _ rolling _ instead of folding."

"I'll keep that in mind." Finally, Robert found Joseph's toiletry bag. He unzipped it, wincing when half its contents came tumbling out. Oops. Oh, well, at least he'd found the NyQuil. "Alright, time to breach." He stood up and yanked the covers back.

Joseph sat up, rubbing absentmindedly at his nose. "Please don't make me take pills with wine. It's really bad for your liver."

"Yeah, yeah." Robert produced a water bottle from Joseph's bottomless bag of personal effects. He passed it to Joseph.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Joseph downed the pills. "No, but really. You didn't have to do this."

"Yeah, well." Robert shrugged. "Seems like all I really did was make your evening harder, so."

Joseph took the hint and let it go, settling back against the pillows. "See you in the morning?"

"Sure," Robert said, trying not to smirk, "if the Maple Bay King Octopus doesn't get us in the night?"

"The  _ what _ ?" said Joseph, his voice cracking.

"Ah, it's nothing." Robert grinned. "Sweet dreams."

"Good night, Robert." Joseph rolled over and pulled the covers up.

After a moment, Robert dimmed the lights and poured himself another glass of wine. In the morning, things would go back to normal, all long nights out with Mary and hastily avoided eye contact with Joseph. But for now, he was content to squint at the pages of  _ Sail _ magazine and drink Joseph's wine, and that was more than he could say for most nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I wasn't sure how much I wanted to telegraph (heh Coconut Telegraph) the Jimmy Buffett reference so. Hopefully it feels natural haha
> 
> Also, my experience with yachts is limited to Arrested Development, so try not to think about the layout of the interior too much or you'll get a headache

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, feel free to point out any typos or whatever


End file.
